


michael fucking up peoples lives go brr

by weeb_idiot



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Descent into Madness, Gen, He/Its Pronouns For Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), It/Its Pronouns For Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), but also he/him, loosing your mind, technically mcd because the statement giver dies but its only implied, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weeb_idiot/pseuds/weeb_idiot
Summary: Statement of someone regarding experiences with unreality
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	michael fucking up peoples lives go brr

Statement of someone regarding experiences with unreality

Statement given April 20th, 2013

Audio recording by Jonathan Sims  the archivist head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London

Statement begins:

He was there you know, walking right next to you when you took me to this room to give my statement. It’s here now, waving one of his… hands? At me. He knows I can see it. 

It started so small. I work-  _ used to work _ as an interior designer, so I was self-employed. I’m not a recluse by any means, but I do prefer to keep to myself when I can. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice anything was wrong at first. 

Looking back at it, the first time it happened was when I was out drinking with friends. All of my friends have pretty busy schedules and like I said, I’m not huge on human contact, but it had been long enough that we’d decided it was worth it to get a drink and catch up. 

I was out with my friends… my friends- my- why can’t I remember their names? I was with… well I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, I was just out with friends. 

We were catching up. I’m afraid I don’t remember the details. I don’t remember anything about them. 

Anyways, we were a few drinks in when I noticed something… off about my glass. It wasn’t anything really obvious, so it took me a few minutes to figure out what was wrong with it. 

Etched into the side, there was a strange spiral pattern. It seemed to get smaller and smaller with perfect detail. I was entranced by it to the point where I think one of my friends asked me about it? Or pulled me away? I- I can’t remember. But I ended up showing them the glass.

I asked them about the pattern and I  _ do  _ remember that they had no idea what I was talking about. I laughed a bit and pointed to the spiral, thinking they were just kidding with me. 

They looked concerned. I can remember their faces so clearly but if i try to think more about them… they get distorted in my mind. I couldn’t explain them to you if I wanted. 

They didn’t see anything, and when they touched my glass they told me they didn’t feel anything either. But I could see it so clearly! I could feel the pattern under my fingers! 

I remember storming out, upset that they were lying to me. They had to be! The pattern was  _ right there.  _

Later I dismissed this whole incident as a drunken delusion, but now… Well I think that was the start of it. 

It only got worse after that. 

I started unconsciously putting the pattern into my work. Small things that I only noticed when I was double checking. Spiraled lights, spiraled rugs. Anywhere there could possibly  _ be  _ a spiral, there was. 

Even when I made a conscious effort to not use spirals, they’d always somehow end up in my designs. 

I was- well I was pretty freaked out. I tried calling some of my other friends to show them, but they couldn’t see what I was pointing out. No matter how many times I’d clearly show them the outline, they’d just insist there was nothing there. 

At this point, I was sure it was an elaborate prank by all of my friends, secretly deciding to mess with me. Looking back at it, that wouldn’t even make sense. None of my friends really knew each other. 

I guess I just didn’t want to admit that I might be crazy. 

It continued to get gradually worse after that. I’d see spirals everywhere. Walking down the street, there would be spirals in every window, on every person's clothing. I myself was in a sort of downward spiral, my mental health getting worse and worse. 

There were also the doors. 

Nothing too off about them at first, just a slightly yellowish tint on every door I saw, and, of course, a spiral pattern. 

Looking back on it I’m amazed at how long I denied it. There was no way this could be a prank by any of my friends at that point. It’s amazing what the human mind can rationalize. 

I kept working, and I tried to ignore the spirals as best as I could. And for a while I was getting by pretty well. Things didn’t get better -they actually got worse, spirals increasing in size and intensity, doors getting more and more yellow- but I felt like I was dealing with it pretty well. 

Then,  _ it _ showed up. 

I only noticed him because at first, it was the only person  _ without  _ a spiral. 

The first time I saw him, it was buying flowers. Chrysanthemums and daisies. I remember thinking this was weird because I had never remembered there being a flower shop on that street, but when I checked the sign, underneath the spiral was written ‘Shelley's Flowers’. 

He was tall, but not inhumanly so, not the first time I saw it. He had long straw colored hair that went halfway down his back. It was very very thin, and he was wearing a heavy winter coat that was basically falling off of it with how thin he was. He also had on a scarf, and something was... _ wrong _ with that scarf. I didn’t notice what it was then though. 

But what stood out the most to me, besides the fact that there were no spirals found on him, were its hands. 

If I looked at him head on, there was nothing wrong with them, just two pale hands handing over money to a cashier whose face was obscured by a spiral. But when I looked away, out of my peripheral vision, his hands looked… longer… than they should have. 

There was no way to properly check however, because whenever I looked back at him, his hands were fine. 

I considered approaching him, but as if he’d heard the thought, he turned to look at me. 

The world outside of him faded away, and I couldn't look away from his face. Believe me, I tried. 

His eyes were a cold, icy blue, and the way he was looking at me made me think he  _ knew _ what was happening to me. He was smiling in a taunting sort of way. Pointed teeth just barely visible. Mocking me. 

Then he looked away, and whatever trance I was in was broken. I ran home as fast as I could. 

After that, just like with the spirals, he was everywhere. 

As time went on, it looked less and less…  _ human _ . He slowly got taller and even thinner, It’s hair became longer and curlier, his teeth sharper. It’s jacket was slowly filled with bright colors, all spiraling together to form something that hurt my mind to look at. His eyes started to have that spiraling pattern I was seeing everywhere too. Faint at first, but becoming clearer every encounter.

I was finally able to figure out what was wrong with his scarf.  _ It didn’t end. _ Whenever I tried to follow it with my eyes, I just got a progressively worse headache until I had to look away. I’ve never seen the end of it. 

And his hands, god- his  _ hands. _

Every time I saw him they were longer, and sharper. As if all the bones that would be in its body normally were being moved to his hands as it was gradually stretched out. Right now, his hands are about the length of it’s torso, and I can see bones jutting out of them, in places you shouldn’t have bones in your hands. It’s  _ awful _ to look at. 

It would not leave me  _ alone _ .

He was never looking at me, but I just  _ knew _ that it knew I was there. 

Sometimes it would catch me looking at him, and smile that horrible mocking smile. As if it were relishing in my fear and suffering. 

The more I started seeing him, the less I started seeing everything else. Where before the spiral pattern had been just a black line over everything, it was slowly being filled in with colors I can’t even begin to describe. Like something you’d see when your eyes are closed. In fact, at first that’s what I thought it was, and I blinked a few times to try and get rid of it. But when I closed my eyes, I could still see everything perfectly. In fact, ever since then, I’ve been unsure if my eyes are even open or not. The doors kept getting yellower as well, until all the doors I saw were almost a deep yellow. The spiral on the doors was the only one that didn’t change, staying a solid black outline.

It started  _ actually _ following me everywhere. He didn’t move like a person, instead floating just a few inches off the ground. I tried talking to him multiple times, to ask it what was happening to me and why he was doing this, but he never answered me. It only laughed this weird dreadful laugh. Like if you could hear a headache. 

It’s what suggested your archives to me, just handed me a slip of paper with the words ‘ _ the magnus archives can help you’ _ written on it in big spiraling letters, almost impossible to read. 

So here I am, I don’t know if this is real or if you’ll even believe me but I don’t know what to do. Please, get rid of this  _ thing _ that’s been following me for… weeks, months,  _ years,  _ I don’t know. I haven’t been able to keep track of time for a while. 

I get a bad feeling from those doors though. They aren’t quite the yellow they will be, somehow I know. But when they are… well, I don’t like my chances. 

Please, I need your help.

Statement ends. 

The statement giver disappeared almost immediately after giving this statement, and was never seen again. 

The being described certainly sounds like Michael, although I don’t know what this is supposed to tell me. It felt like a message of some sort, but… I don’t know. I guess that’s the whole point with Michael. Maybe it’s just a show of power, proof that even if it’s pretending to be my friend now, doesn’t mean it can be trusted. 

Either way, there’s no doubt that the statement giver -who couldn’t even remember their name- disappeared into its hallways. There’s no follow up we can do on a nameless person, and I doubt we’d be able to find anything anyways. 

I wonder what Michael  _ is _ . Because it’s certainly not human, this statement proves  _ that _ , as if I had any doubt. 

It scares me. The way it doesn’t seem to care what happens. Like it already knows how the story will end. 

I wish  _ I _ knew how the story ended. 

End recording. 

**Author's Note:**

> Then, it showed up.   
> Fuckhands McMike.
> 
> anyways follow me on twt if you want @weeb_idiot


End file.
